Breunig: The Giving Fund's hidden gifts

Published 8:30 pm, Friday, December 13, 2013

I'm a sucker for a happy ending. If you're not, be warned that one is 1,368 words away. In other words, if you are a Scrooge, you might as well just humbug your way out of my column right now.

Once upon a time -- or, more specifically, 30 years ago -- Greenwich Time and The Advocate launched a holiday fund to invite readers to help people in the community fulfill basic needs. The Giving Fund, as it is now known, could not be a more simple operation. Family Centers and Person-to-Person provide us with cases of residents who can use a little extra help, we assign each a number and publish them from Thanksgiving into the new year. Donations are distributed to meet the needs. No fuss, no hidden costs. Every dollar goes to the client.

Though I've been involved in the campaign for years, it turns out I had missed the best part of the story. I sat down in recent days with Family Centers staff members to better understand how cases are collected. I always figured it started with clients filing requests.

I was wrong.

I also assumed the clients were aware they were candidates for the funding.

Wrong

The faux names used in the short stories we publish are even mysteries to the clients. During the calendar year, the staff members recognize simple needs that can have a profound impact on their clients, and submit a request to be included in the campaign. They don't pretend this doesn't allow them the sublime rewards of playing Santa Claus, with an improvement on the myth given that the gifts are created by neighbors.

"There is nothing more incredible than showing up at somebody's door when you know this is going to make a difference," says Donna Spellman, the director of Self Sufficiency and Independent Living programs at Family Centers.

Donna knows the program better than most, having coordinated it when it was known as Help a Neighbor. After 17 years, she leaves most of the case work to fellow staff members. This year, one case drew her back in. She submitted a request to pay a bill that would let one man turn on his heat. She doesn't cloak how much it would mean to her to deliver this gift.

"I am praying that this comes in for him because I can't wait to be able to personally go and surprise him and say `This is for you. This is to pay your bill.' I once brought him food cards and he cried. I know this will make the difference.' "

Family Centers Communications Director Bill Brucker, who serves as the hub of the fund, enforces the mission that it strive to fulfill "basic human needs the general population takes for granted." They all work to ensure the requests are modest so the fund can help as many people as possible. Bill is like George Bailey asking Bailey Building and Loan Association depositors to accept as little as possible in "It's a Wonderful Life." After all, how much do you really need to get by?

Like the classic holiday film, the drama and rewards are in the small details. New need is created as jobs vanish, marriages dissolve and tragedy occurs, all causing whiplash in personal finances. Recipients never forget, and look for ways to give back. A new mother who received a car seat through the fund returned it to the agency when it no longer fit her child.

Samuel Ambroise, program director of the Family Self Sufficiency Program, says the most rewarding gift he has delivered was to pay for a wheelchair for a client with one leg. "It was the best thing ever," he says, his expression reflecting that moment of joy.

Theola Williams, a Housing Resource coordinator, was so anxious to deliver her gift last year that she did it on a Saturday. Her client needed money for a security deposit after someone broke into her home by removing an air conditioner.

The social workers I spoke with say one response is common when a gift is presented: "Why would someone do this? Why would they give me money?"

They have also gotten used to this reply, "What can I do to give back?"

These staff members know no one is safe from poverty. Former Giving Fund donors sometimes find themselves in need years later.

Since the 2008 economic collapse, Family Centers and Person-to-Person have dealt with many people who need help for the first time in their lives. Record foreclosures in New Canaan and Darien have families that once lived in McMansions trying to figure out how food stamps work.

"They struggle much more than people who grew up poor because they don't know," how to tap into available resources, says Jessica Herlihy, coordinator of the Reaching Independence Through Employment (RITE) program.

Jessica has seen families remain in their homes through the foreclosure process, with dramatically different expectations than traditional clients.

"This wasn't their life. They were supposed to bounce back," she says.

She recalls being surprised when one unemployed father spent money on plane tickets to Florida for a job interview, "but for him it made sense."

"Now they are facing shelters. Kids have been pulled out of colleges." Jessica's thoughts turn to similar clients. "A lot of kids have been pulled out of colleges and they are devastated."

The staff members are careful not to file requests that only provide temporary relief, like one month's rent. As Donna stresses, they are looking for people who will "benefit from a small amount of money."

She pauses to consider her own words. "Well, to our clients it's a huge amount of money."

The staff members mentally bookmark cases throughout the calendar year, and struggle to distill a life, a precious need, into the few sentences that we publish. They laugh when I inquire about their individual heartfelt writing styles ("The hardest part is thinking of the names," Helma says). Often, editors turn down the sentiment a notch or two.

The staff members become cheerleaders for each other as they anxiously await the day their case will appear in the paper. Then comes the hard part. Bill reminds his colleagues that there are no guarantees, so the clients never know their case has been featured in the paper. Meanwhile, each case worker hopes the stories will resonate with strangers. For 30 years, they always have.

The money is not simply handed over to the clients. Sometimes, checks are made out to a landlord, the housing authority or a furniture store.

Lauren Tierney, program coordinator of Stamford CARES, had a client facing the ultimate Catch-22. He needed a stove to keep his housing. For someone on the edge of homelessness, a stove might as well be a yacht. There were no services to meet the need, so Lauren put in a Giving Fund request as a last hope.

She asked him to come to the office on the excuse of needing some paperwork. It was there that she delivered his gift.

"We met and he . . ." Lauren pauses as she recalls the moment. "He tried not to cry but you could tell he was watering up."

The pair took the check and went shopping for a stove. They were able to make an economical purchase, so the extra cash went to the bonus gifts of a jacket and boots the man lacked for winter.

If funds remain at the end of the campaign, they are saved to be used for cases "in the spirit of the fund" that arise in the off-season months. In those emergencies, the angels arrive more quickly.

Thirty years later, the magic of the Giving Fund remains the response of the human heart to simple stories of need. A wish in black and white. No photos, no videos, no swelling soundtrack. Just a request and a response between strangers.

So here's your happy ending. When you donate to the fund, you are tipping the first domino in a series of happy holidays: one for a stranger and one for the person who delivers their gift. And, of course, one for yourself.

John Breunig is editorial page editor of The Advocate and Greenwich Time. He can be reached at john.breunig@scni.com; 203-964-2281; http://twitter.com/johnbreunig. To donate to the fund, visit stamfordadvocate.com/givingfund/